


Sugar Snow and Peppermint Pathways

by sunlight-and-storms (all_i_see_is_sky)



Category: Keeper of the Lost Cities Series - Shannon Messenger
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reality Show, Baking Show AU, F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:09:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28301394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/all_i_see_is_sky/pseuds/sunlight-and-storms
Summary: Unlike many baking shows out there, theHoliday Bake-Offisn’t elimination-based, which viewers claim makes it all the more interesting. Each competitor, however, is entirely on their own- which means that if the Vacker siblingsdoattend, they’ll be working against each other for the first time ever.Dex rolls out the cookie dough again. "I hate them so much."(Or: nearly everyone is a famous baker, Biana and Fitz are both a little bit in love, and Dex Dizznee does not, under any circumstances, want to interact with the Vackers.)
Relationships: Biana Vacker & Fitz Vacker, Dex Dizznee/Fitz Vacker, Sophie Foster/Biana Vacker
Comments: 34
Kudos: 43





	Sugar Snow and Peppermint Pathways

**Author's Note:**

> This is my Winter Gift exchange fic for @yeetersofthelostcities over on Tumblr!! It was a joy to work on and I love Liberty so much for giving me the chance to write it.

**World-Famous Vacker Siblings Rumored To Be On 2020’s Annual Holiday Bake-Off**

Fitzroy and Biana Vacker have been making a lot of headlines this year, from the opening of their new bakery in Chicago to the millions of dollars they’ve donated to various charities around the globe. The sibling duo seems to have been born with baking skills- and it’s no surprise, since their mother is Della Vacker, author of _five_ bestselling cookbooks. (See our  biography of Della Vacker  if you’d like to learn more!) 

But this December may mark their greatest trial yet. Netflix’s _Happy Holiday Bake-Off_ garnered more than three million views last year, and it’s set to get even more attention this year now that four-star restaurant owner Edaline Ruewen is hosting. 

For those of you new to the bake-off, the rules are simple: it’s comprised of five different baking challenges, spread out over the week leading up to Christmas Day. Each of the eight competitors will have five different chances to wow the judges- and on the final day, whoever’s made the most impact will win thousands of dollars. Unlike many baking shows out there, the _Holiday Bake-Off_ isn’t elimination-based, which viewers claim makes it all the more interesting. Each competitor, however, is entirely on their own- which means that if the Vacker siblings _do_ attend, they’ll be working against each other for the first time ever. 

**_\--read more--_ **

**OTHER NEWS**

_13 Christmas Cookie recipes to brighten up your winter!_

_“It’s All In The Butter”: Edaline Ruewen shares the secret of her famous butterblasts!_

_Fintan Pyren opens a new barbeque joint in Upper Manhattan. Its name?_ _Flambé._

**Subscribe to BAKER’S WEEKLY ONLINE today and get a free tote bag!**

_December 12, 2020._

_Biana Vacker's Self-Proclaimed Trash Can Fire_

_New York City, New York._

“No.”

“Yes,” Biana says cheerfully, leaning over the dining room table to ruffle her brother’s hair. Fitz glares at her. “I’ve already signed the papers.” 

“But-” Fitz sighs, apparently already giving up. “Ugh. I’m busy.” 

“Fun fact: spending thirty hours trying to refine the perfect croissant recipe does not qualify as being ‘busy’. Our croissants are delicious. They don’t need any more work. _You,_ however, need a vacation.” 

“Funner fact: competing against my _own sister_ on a reality show broadcast to the _country_ is less of a vacation than working out apricot croissants would be.” 

“Even more fun fact: ‘funner’ is not a word.” 

“Even funner fact: I literally do not give a single fuck.” 

Della’s laugh crackles over the phone, warm and bright. “Language, Fitzroy,” she says. Livvy snorts. 

“He’s twenty-two years old, Dell. I don’t think you get to say that.” 

Biana giggles. She can almost picture the scene at the other end of the call- her moms curled up on the couch, Della nursing a cup of mulled cider as Livvy talks intently about her patients at the hospital. Their menorah will have three candles lit by tonight, mirroring the one that sits on Biana’s own side table. The whole house will be filled with warmth and laughter. 

Biana misses that sometimes, looking around her empty apartment. Wishes she was still a little girl and could snuggle up next to her mom and watch _The Nutcracker_ because Della knew, without asking, that Biana was sad _._ Before all this… responsibility.

That’s not really fair, though, because when she was a little girl Livvy wasn’t there, and Della was sad, and Fitz was angry. So maybe she doesn’t miss the old days- maybe she just misses having someone there to understand her. 

_Fitz is here,_ she reminds herself. _He’s not leaving. He’s_ good, _and he’s not leaving._

“... chocolate chips on the ceiling,” her brother is saying when Biana snaps back to the conversation. Over the phone, Della groans. 

“Don’t even mention that. Goodness, I’m glad you’ve left the ‘crazy parties’ stage of your life behind, Fitz. Those were _hell_ to clean up after.” 

“I don’t know, it was pretty funny to watch him try to repair a chair while hungover the next morning,” Biana teases. Fitz rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. 

“I didn’t-” 

There’s a loud beeping noise Biana registers as an oven timer, and she spins around towards her kitchen before realizing it’s coming from her moms’ end. Della makes an apologetic noise. 

“Sorry, darlings, we should go. I love you!”

“Love you too,” Biana and Fitz echo. There’s a rustling sound, like Della is moving to hang up, and then she pauses. 

“Oh, and Fitz, I think the _Holiday Bake-Off_ is a wonderful idea. Good luck!” 

And then Biana’s phone is flashing the _Time Elapsed: 22 minutes_ screen, and her brother is back to glaring at her. 

“No.”

“I’m not arguing this anymore,” Biana says, moving towards the kitchen and filling up a pot of water. “Do we want spaghetti for dinner?”

“Sure,” Fitz retrieves several cans of tomato sauce and dumps them in a pot. “I just- sorry. What if we lose?”

“Well, at least one of us is going to lose,” Biana points out. “And even if we both get the lowest ratings in the entire show, so what? We don’t need the money.”

“But-” Fitz waves his hands in the air. “We’re going to be- people are going to be _watching_ us. What happens if we fuck up?” 

_Oh._ Of course that’s what he’s worried about. Fitz has always, always been worried about public appearances. Biana sets the water on the stove and moves over to him, leaning against the opposite counter. 

“Bro. Man. My dude.” She says seriously. Fitz purses his lips in a way that makes it clear he’s hiding a smile. “Fitz, we’re going to be fine. No one’s going to be judging how we do in this competition.”

“Sorry, do you hear yourself?”

“Okay, fair, but you know what I mean. Losing this contest isn’t going to wreck our business. If we can strike up enough of a friendship with whoever _does_ win, we could even stand to grow.”

Fitz stares at her. Biana stares back. The tomato sauce starts to bubble. 

“Fine,” Fitz finally says. “Do we have any veggie meatballs?” 

* * *

_December 13, 2020._

_The Good Place Bakery_

_Middlebury, Vermont._

Dex drops the cookie dough onto the flour-covered counter, smacking it with what’s probably more force than necessary. It holds up, though, and he cuts out two entire trays of tiny snowmen and stars before his co-owner arrives in a blaze of glory. 

“Guess who’s got a date this weekend!” Keefe sings, dumping his coat on a hook and pushing himself up on the counter. He gets a good look at Dex’s face and frowns. “Whoa, who bruleed your creme?”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Dex rolls his eyes, “and everything’s fine. What poor guy did you pick up now?”

“His name’s Nathan and he’s beautiful,” Keefe sighs. “But don’t try to change the subject. Why do you have your grumpy face on?”

Dex grabs the letter from where he threw it across the room half an hour ago and hands it to the other man. Keefe skims it. 

“You have been invited onto Netflix’s _Holiday Bake-Off,_ ” he reads. He glances up at Dex. “Okay… didn’t we already know that? Soph’s been talking about the contest for weeks.”

“Yes, but I got more information this time around,” Dex says tightly. “And it turns out the Vacker siblings are also competing.”

“Oh.” Keefe sets the letter down and picks up one of the cookie sheets, sliding it into the oven. “Well, I think you can beat them.”

“Of _course_ I can beat them,” Dex snaps. “That’s not the problem. The problem is-” he sweeps up the dough scraps and prepares to roll them out again. “The problem is they’re fake and I don’t like them.”

He’s aware he sounds like a child. It’s hard to describe, though, what makes him so frustrated about the Vacker siblings. The two of them just make it look so… _easy,_ though. Born into fame and given a head start in front of everyone else. Dex had to take out three different loans to start this bakery, and even that was with Keefe’s huge trust fund. 

“They’re just… fake,” he says lamely. “No one’s that perfect.” 

“Mmm.” Keefe hums, then murmurs, “okay, but you know who _is_ that perfect?”

Dex sighs. “Okay, tell me about Nathan.”

Keefe is halfway through the story of how they met- at the _library,_ apparently, which is _widely_ known to be the most romantic spot in town- when Amy shoves through the doors and steals an unbaked cookie. 

“Morning,” she grins around a mouthful of crumbs. Dex raises an eyebrow and slides the cookie sheet towards Keefe before she can eat more. 

“Morning,” he says. “How’s Marty?”

“Still hates everyone but Sophie,” Amy shrugs. “Who isn’t here, obviously, because she and Mom are in Chicago setting up the _Bake-Off._ ” She squints at Dex. “I can’t believe you got onto the show. There have to be rules against that.”

“Technically, that only applies if it’s direct relation. So, like, kids and parents.” Keefe grabs a piece of cookie dough. “Plus, even if Edaline _did_ give Dex super high ratings on everything, he can’t win unless the other judges agree.”

“You’re going to get salmonella,” Dex tells the two of them. “But yeah, Keefe’s right. I’ll have to actually try if I want to win.”

“Do you?” Amy asks. Dex bites his lip, dusting some flour off his shirt.

“The money would be nice, I guess. But- I don’t know. We’ll get publicity either way, and that’s what’s important.”

“Attaboy,” Keefe gives him a thumbs-up. “You’re gonna win _all_ the brownie points. Well, assuming they have you make brownies.”

“I-” Dex stares at him, shaking his head. “Why don’t you tell Amy about Nathan.” 

* * *

_December 17, 2020._

_Some Fancy Hotel_

_Chicago, Illinois._

Biana glances around the room, light reflecting off the chandelier above and casting glittering patterns on the carpet and various couches scattered around the hall-like space. Four days have passed she broke the news to Fitz, and she’s wondering if this was a bad idea after all.

She’s not the first one here, thank goodness; there’s a tiny blond woman seated on a chair further down chatting to a man with silver-dyed bangs and a frizzy-haired woman tapping impatiently on her phone a few feet away. A door at the other end of the hall presumably leads further into the hotel. 

A buzz in her pocket prompts her to retrieve her phone, and Biana opens it to find three texts from her brother.

**ritzroy**

Ok I made it to our room

[image.jpg]

There’s a paper crane on the kitchen counter is this some sort of message

yes.

they're trying to tell u that u r a paper crane

**ritzroy**

*you *are 

I know you only do that to annoy me 

<3

now get down here i feel awkward standing all by myself

**ritzroy**

Have you tried talking to people?

fuck you

Sighing a bit, she plops down on a couch half-obscured by a large plant. Someone coughs from where they’re sitting next to her and Biana turns around to apologize. 

“Hi,” says Sophie Foster. 

Biana stares. The woman is about half an inch shorter than her, blond hair tucked back into a ponytail and white blouse slightly wrinkled. Biana’s seen this face on television upwards of a hundred times- the award-winning chef daughter of Grady and Edaline Ruewen attracts attention, after all- but never quite like this, with eyebrows furrowed and mouth tilted a little to the side. 

“Hey,” Biana says about a minute too late. “Hey, sorry, I didn’t know there was someone sitting here.” 

“No problem,” Sophie assures her. “You’re Biana Vacker, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Biana nods, slightly stunned that _Sophie Elizabeth Foster knows her name._ “You’re- Sophie Foster.” 

“That’s me,” Sophie says, smiling a little. “You ready for the competition?”

“Definitely,” Biana responds. “I mean, I don’t celebrate Christmas, but I watched the _Holiday Bake-Off_ last year, and it seems like it’s super fun? And it’ll be cool to see what other people make too.” 

“Yeah.” Silence falls over the two of them, and Biana cringes inwardly. This is the _worst possible thing_. Where on earth is her brother? 

Searching for something to say, Biana opens her mouth. “Um-”

“Huh?” Sophie turns a little more towards her, eyes fixed on Biana’s face. Biana swallows a little.

“Uh, I was actually really nervous when I noticed I was sitting next to you. I’m kind of a huge fan.” 

Sophie blinks. “You’re kidding.”

“No?”

“When I found out you were going to be competing, I literally asked my mom if she could get me on the show because I wanted to meet you so bad.”

Biana’s staring again. “Oh.” 

Sophie’s phone buzzes and she pulls it out, tapping the screen. Biana tilts her head a little in confusion.

“Gotta go,” Sophie says with an apologetic smile. She stands up and starts towards the door, turning back to say one last thing before she leaves. 

“You’re even prettier in person.” 

When Fitz shows up two minutes later, Biana’s still staring wide-eyed at the place where Sophie was just standing. Her brother flops down onto the couch next to her and raises an eyebrow. 

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” Biana shakes her head. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Well, I dropped the bags off. The room’s nice,” Fitz offers. “Oh, and Mom says we should video chat tonight. She wants the tea.”

Biana blinks. “The… tea.”

“Her words, not mine.”

“Yeah, I think I could tell. What-”

“Hello, everyone!” The door at the end of the hall swings open and a smiling red-haired woman steps out, followed by two others. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I’m Edaline Ruewen, from Vermont. I’ll be one of the judges next week. We’re all gonna go around and introduce ourselves, I’ll outline a schedule, and then y’all will be free to go. Cadence?”

“Good afternoon,” a tall dark-skinned woman greets. “I’m Cadence Talle, food journalist for the LA Times. I’ll be another one of your judges, along with-”

“Bronte.” The third man interrupts. He raises an eyebrow at the faces waiting for him to go on. “Well?”

“Looks like someone’s judging us already,” Fitz whispers. Biana muffles a laugh in her coat sleeve as the blond woman from before speaks up. 

“Hi, I’m Marella Redek. I’m a pastry chef over in Portland.” 

“Tam Song. I do the baking for a restaurant here in the city.”

People introduce themselves quickly, names flashing by in quick succession- Maruca Chebota, Jensi Babblos, Stina Heks. 

“I’m Biana Vacker,” Biana says when it’s her turn. “My brother and I co-manage a couple bakeries across the country.” 

Fitz raises his hand. “I’m her brother.” 

“Dex Dizznee,” says the last competitor, a red-haired man seated on the arm of a couch. “I have a bakery up in Middlebury.” 

“Wait, _The Good Place?_ ” Fitz leans forward. “I made your chocolate cream pie recipe once. It’s fantastic.”

Dex blinks, face finally settling in an expression that reminds Biana of some of the people at the huge dinner parties her dad used to throw- carefully, delicately concealed disdain. She wonders what Fitz has done to warrant that look. 

“Oh, that’s cool,” Dex says calmly. “Chocolate cream is one of my co-owner’s favorites, actually.” 

Fitz nods. “Neat.” 

Edaline smiles at them, clapping her hands for attention. “All right! Let’s go over the schedule, then. The first round is on Saturday, and the last one is next Wednesday. You’ll be expected to arrive at the kitchens by eleven am…”

“What’s up with him?” Biana whispers. Fitz raises one shoulder in a tiny shrug. 

“I don’t know, but he doesn’t seem to like me very much.”

There’s no way Dex can hear them- he’s nearly fifteen feet away and Edaline’s voice carries throughout the entire hall. Still, he’s staring at Fitz when Biana glances at him, and there’s molten caramel in his gaze. 

* * *

_December 17, 2020._

_Some Fancy Room_ _In Some Fancy Hotel_

_Chicago, Illinois._

“And then he just went, ‘Neat.’ _Neat?_ Like, what the fuck?”

“Dude, you know I love you, but don’t you think you’re making a _bit_ of a big deal out of this? He just complimented the bakery.”

Dex heaves a sigh, flopping onto his hotel bed and staring up at the light fixture. It’s probably trendy, with all those boxes or whatever, but Dex can’t really tell. This is why he’s a baker. 

“I know, I know. He just- gets under my skin. I’ve been pissed all day.”

“Funny,” Keefe says, and Dex can just _hear_ him smiling. “I thought you had more of a problem with the Vackers as a whole than you did with Fitz. Or is he just too attractive to be anything but your _singular_ arch-nemesis?” 

“Enemies to lovers speedrun,” Amy calls in the background and Keefe laughs. He’s probably having dinner with Grady and Amy tonight like they typically do once a month. Normally, Dex, Sophie and Edaline are there too. 

Dex’s family is weirdly spread across the country- Grady and Edaline live an hour away, Rex and Bex are somehow both coexisting at Seattle University while Lex stays closer to home back in Michigan, and Sophie and Amy split their time between Middlebury and their apartment in San Francisco. They do their best to stay in touch, though, even with the bakery’s odd hours and the Ruewen’s constant media appearances. 

“So how’s the hotel?” Keefe asks. Dex shrugs. 

“It’s a hotel. My room has a little kitchen, which is nice, and there’s, like, a bigger community pantry-slash-kitchen down the hall. It feels like college.” 

“College is worse, actually,” Amy says. Dex snorts.

“You say that like I haven’t been to college.” 

“Dude, we _met_ in college,” Keefe points out, “and you did _not_ get the full college experience. You just, like, baked 23/7 and then miraculously passed all your classes with the last hour.”

“Yes,” Dex says over the sound of Amy’s cackling. “Yes, that is exactly what I did. You’re completely right.” 

“I know,” Keefe says. “I’m always right. I have, never, ever done anything wrong.”

“You called me this morning to freak out over your date outfit for a date that’s three days away, but go off I guess.” Amy deadpans. 

“Fuck _you-_ ” The sounds of a small scuffle come through the speakers and Dex rolls his eyes. 

“I’m going to sleep,” he calls. “See you guys in a week.”

“Good luck!” Amy calls, and Dex hangs up. 

* * *

_December 19, 2020._

_Netflix’s Test Kitchen_

_Chicago, Illinois._

Biana tucks one last strand of hair back into her braid and glances over at the imposing black camera standing next to her station. There are ones just like it scattered around the entire room, fluorescent overhead lights reflected off their shiny exteriors. It’ll be weird trying to bake with someone recording her the whole time, but she can take it.

“Good morning, everyone!” Edaline calls, sweeping out to the judges bench with Cadence and Bronte close on her heels. There’s some sort of sheet-covered circle on the wall behind them. “I hope y’all are ready to bake!”

Everyone cheers and Edaline throws her head back, laughing a laugh with just enough snort in it to sound real. Biana’s reminded suddenly of her own mother; Edaline has the same sort of tough core and caring nature covered by a thin layer of plastic for the cameras. She wonders if Sophie is the same.

“And without further ado,” Edaline says. Biana snaps her attention back, hoping she hasn’t missed anything important. “Today’s challenge is…”

Bronte tugs on the fabric and it falls away to reveal a casino-style roulette wheel. If Biana squints, she can see words written on each colored section; _CHOCOLATE_ and _RASPBERRY_ and _ALMOND._

“Cookies,” he announces. 

Cadence sweeps her gaze over all of them. “Spin the wheel to find out what ingredients you need to include, and then you’ll have forty-five minutes to bake. Understood?”

Biana nods, glancing at the camera out of the corner of her eye and rearranging her face into something a bit more excited. She should probably start thinking about what to say in the post-baking interview.

Fitz is the first to spin the wheel, and he gets _COCONUT_ and _STRAWBERRY._ He looks a little confused but smiles, media persona still firmly in place. 

Biana gets _GINGER_ and _CHOCOLATE,_ returning to her station with a wide smile. This recipe is one she created with Livvy- they were home alone while Della and Fitz went out to a show and decided to try the most difficult food combinations they could think of.

Honey-covered crickets were surprisingly delicious. Hot sauce mixed with Gatorade was not.

 _(I knew what I was going to do immediately,_ she tells the cameras afterward. _It’s a family favorite; chocolate-ginger crinkle cookies.)_

She retrieves a packet of candied ginger and grabs two bags of chocolate chips, dumping one bag in a saucepan and starting to melt them. A few feet away, Dex Dizznee stares at his ingredients- _ALMOND_ and _ANISE,_ a fairly simple combination- before turning away towards the ingredients. If Biana had to hazard a guess, she’d say he’s making biscotti. 

_(Biscotti’s probably too obvious for almonds,_ Dex shrugs later, _but my friend Keefe and I perfected an almond-anise biscotti a while back and I figured, why waste what little time I had on something new?)_

Once she gets started, it’s easy to just focus on the recipe. She’s not like Fitz; baking’s not the be-all end-all stress reliever it is for him, but there’s definitely something comforting about the familiar motions. Before she knows it, she’s pulling the sheets out of the oven and arranging the prettiest ones on a plate for the judges to try.

Marella Redek goes up first, showing off her caramel-pecan shortbread with a polite smile. 

_(I’m just glad I didn’t get one of those crazy combinations,_ she says with a sigh of relief.)

Then Fitz, who’s managed to make tiny sandwich cookies filled with strawberry jam and dusted with coconut in forty-five minutes. He fidgets with his hands as the judges taste them.

_(I was really worried when I got my ingredients. I’m so relieved they turned out okay.)_

Biana’s cookies go over well, Cadence nodding and reaching for another one. Finally Dex Dizznee steps up. 

“Almond-anise biscotti,” he says with a small smile. The judges all bite into the cookies at the same time and smile.

“Delicious,” Bronte says. Dex grins and steps back to his station.

Fifteen minutes later, the contestants stand in front of the judges bench in a straight line, worried eyes and tapping feet all the way down.

“All your cookies were exquisite,” Edaline says. “But one of you made a _fantastic_ first impression.” 

Cadence offers the group a tiny, sideways smile. “Dexter Dizznee,” she says. “You are today’s winner.”

There’s a round of applause and Dex’s cheeks go a little bit red. 

“Thank you,” he says.

_(I won! It’s only the first round, of course, but I’m still proud to have started off on the right foot.)_

“Hey,” Biana nudges her brother’s shoulder as they trail out of the room for individual interviews.“That wasn’t too bad, huh?” 

“No,” Fitz tilts his head and glances back at the still-smiling Dex. “I guess it wasn’t.”

_(I don’t think I’m too sad about losing this round. Dex’s cookies looked absolutely delicious, anyway.)_

Biana’s phone buzzes on the way back to her room. She pulls it out to see two messages from an unknown number. 

**415-623-7868**

hi!! sorry if this is mega creepy but it was super cool to meet you the other day and i’d love to talk more sometime

this is sophie foster btw

“Holy shit,” Biana whispers. Her brother turns around with a questioning glance but she waves him off. “Nothing, I’m fine.” She’s pretty sure she’s grinning at her phone screen with all the force of a thousand suns. “I’m totally fine.”

_(Tomorrow, we try again.)_

* * *

_December 20, 2020._

_Netflix’s Test Kitchen_

_Chicago, Illinois._

Buoyed by the previous day’s success and an especially good breakfast buffet (he is _not_ immune to chocolate-chip pancakes, no matter what he might claim), Dex practically floats into the kitchen the next day. His mood isn’t even brought down by Bronte’s lackluster announcement that the second challenge is simply _Snowflakes._ The bakery’s meringues are a town favorite for a reason, after all, and that reason is that they’re _fucking good._

He _does_ get annoyed, though, by the man leaning against a counter a few feet away as he pipes the meringue. Fitz Vacker is tapping his fingers against the marble, watching the ice cream machine with a calm sort of fixation. Dex huffs and accidentally pipes too much meringue on the baking sheet. 

“Do you _mind?_ ” He grumbles under his breath. Fitz’s head snaps up. 

“Sorry,” he says, slight accent curling around his words. It’s not a British accent or really any sort Dex can discern, and that just makes him more frustrated. “Am I in your way?”

“No,” Dex says as politely as he can. He’s well aware of the cameras standing a few feet away. “No, you're fine.”

Fitz nods and tilts his head towards the meringues, apparently taking Dex’s grudging silence as an invitation. “Those look pretty good.”

“Thank you,” Dex says shortly, letting out an annoyed sigh internally when Fitz doesn’t budge. “You’re making ice cream?”

“Heh, yeah. I couldn’t really think of anything else, so.” Fitz shrugs. “Ice cream bars.” He scratches the back of his neck, looking a little embarrassed. “At least it’s cold, right? Like snow.” 

This startles a laugh out of Dex. “Yeah, like snow.” He leans back a little to give the now-completed snowflakes a onceover. “What do you think?”

“They look great!” Fitz enthuses, jumping a bit when the ice cream machine lets out a long beep. “Oh, looks like that’s me. I should go. Nice to meet you!”

And then he’s off to his own station, bowl of ice cream clutched tightly in one hand. Dex allows himself thirty seconds of staring into the camera like he’s on _The Office_ before he sighs and slides the meringues into the oven. 

_What on earth was that._

He bumps into Sophie on his way out of the room after interviews. Biana Vacker’s chocolate-pecan-bark snowflakes won today; unsurprising, since they looked almost real- and he kind of just wants to go back to his room and sleep for a month. His cousin, however, seems to have other ideas.

“Quick,” she says, grabbing his arm. Her phone is in her other hand, screen lighting up with a message. “How much would my mom kill me if I went on a date with one of the _Bake-Off_ contestants?”

“Um,” Dex blinks. “I’m going to need some more information?” 

“Okay, so I met Biana Vacker the other day, and I _might_ have gotten her number from the contestant files we have? And then texted her? For like five hours last night? And I _might_ have asked her out and she _might_ have said yes?” Sophie tugs at her eyelashes. “Please help me, I have no idea what the fuck I’m going to do.”

“You’re going on a date with Biana Vacker,” Dex confirms. “ _Why?”_

“Because she’s smart, and pretty, and incredibly funny, and because _I_ don’t have some weird hate-obsession with her.” 

“I don’t-”

“Yes, you do. Seriously, how much is Mom going to murder me for this?”

“How much is Mom going to muder you for _what?_ ”

Edaline’s standing a few feet away, arms folded across her chest and eyebrows raised. Sophie’s eyes go wide, but she sighs as if already giving up.

Dex gets it. Edaline is _scary_ when she wants to be.

“Is it illegal and-slash-or nepotism if I go on a date with Biana Vacker tomorrow night?”

Edaline blinks. “Probably not? As long as you can confirm that she’s not using you to get further in the contest.” She shrugs. “I could talk to Cadence and Bronte about it, but they were all right with Dex being on the show, so.”

“Wait, really?” Sophie grins and throws her arms around her mother. “This is the _best._ Thanks, Mom! I’m gonna go text her.” 

She takes off down the hall, typing frantically. Edaline watches her go with a fond smile. 

“It’s incredibly weird to see her this old,” She says to Dex. “I still think of her as twelve, honestly.”

Dex snorts. “Yeah.”

“So,” Edaline cocks her head, looking at her with the same _I’m going to ask you a question and we both know what the right answer is_ look that Dex’s own mother has. “I saw you talking to Fitz Vacker earlier. Making friends?”

“No.” Dex says immediately. Then he rolls his eyes. “He’s not as bad as I was expecting, though.”

“What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know, like, posh and rich and British or whatever they are. But he’s actually a decent person or whatever.”

“Or whatever.” Edaline laughs. “Well, I’m glad you’re having fun either way. I’ve got to get to a meeting, but I’ll see you later, all right? Say hi to Keefe for me.”

Dex nods and heads back to his room.

He _really_ needs to sleep. 

* * *

_December 21, 2020._

_The Art Institute of Chicago_

_Chicago, Illinois._

“Here we are,” Sophie says as they push through museum security and enter the clearly-marked _Thorne Rooms._ Biana glances at the art curiously; the exhibit is made up of tiny glass windows set into low walls all around. She peers into one and lets out a tiny gasp. 

“Oh.”

It’s a tiny room in there; chairs and sofas all with perfectly embroidered cushions as small as Biana’s thumb. Through miniscule doors in the back, Biana glimpses a painted background and a balcony. It’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. 

Sophie snorts behind her, and Biana realizes she said that last bit out loud. “Right? It’s all real, too. Took Narcissa Thorne and her craftsmen eight years.”

“Wow.” 

“I used to come here all the time,” Sophie says, stepping forward and tracing one finger over the glass. “Whenever we were in town. I wished I could live in some of these rooms.” She glances back at Biana and gives a little self-deprecating smile. “Pretty stupid, probably.”

“No, it’s not,” Biana shakes her head. “I get it. It would be nice to escape for a little bit, especially to a place that looks like _that,_ ” she tilts her head at the room. Sophie laughs. 

“I’ll bet it gets really dusty, though. And that chair seems highly uncomfortable.”

They move throughout the whole exhibit, making low comments to each other every time they see a particularly amazing piece of furniture or a fancy candlestick. Biana finds herself relaxing more and more- Sophie is smart, and funny, and keeps shooting her little smiles that make Biana’s knees weak. 

That day’s competition had been the hardest yet. Each contestant had had to make a dessert based around a Christmas carol; a specific, judge-assigned Christmas carol. It was, for lack of a better term, _absolute shit_.

Biana had gotten _Santa Claus Is Coming To Town_ \- not the worst, considering the circumstances, and at least she knew it- and had had to figure out how to map the route of an overweight stalker on baked goods. 

She hadn’t won; that honor had gone to Maruca Chebota’s fondant replica of a sleigh for _Over The River And Through The Woods._ (Biana is pretty sure that song is actually a Thanksgiving song, but she wasn’t going to contradict.) Still, Biana’s happy, content as they leave the museum and move down to an Italian restaurant a few blocks away. Smiling as Sophie’s hand brushes against hers. 

They get settled in a little corner near a window, knees bumping under the table. The room is dim, lit by one chandelier in the middle and candles on every table. It’s warm, something delicious wafting through the air. 

Sophie leans forward to grab a menu, hair lit golden in the candlelight, and Biana revises her earlier statement. The Thorne Rooms aren’t the most beautiful things she’s ever seen. This woman is. 

“Everything okay?” Sophie asks. Biana realizes she’s been staring and gives her a quick nod. 

“Yeah, no. Everything’s perfect.” She glances down at the tablecloth, sees Sophie fidgeting with the edge of her napkin. “Are _you_ all right?”

“I, uh,” Sophie tugs at one of her eyelashes. “I just wanted to say that I don’t really tend to talk to my mom about the competition? So, like, if you’re just trying to get an edge or something-”

“No!” Biana shakes her head, reaching forward to grab the other woman’s hand. “No, no no. Absolutely not. This is like, the opposite of that.” 

“Pretty sure the opposite of that would be divorcing me to lose the _Bake-Off,_ ” Sophie says, but she’s smiling. Biana smiles back. 

“Well, I don’t want to do that either.”

“What _do_ you want to do?”

Biana shrugs. “I don’t know. This is pretty nice. I like spending time with you.”

Sophie blushes and tightens her grip on Biana’s hand. “I-”

“Pardon me.” There’s a waiter standing next to their table, notepad in hand. He offers them an awkward smile. “Are you ready to order?”

“Right!” Biana says at the same time as Sophie’s “Yes! For sure! Just give me a second!”. They grin at each other and look back down at the menus. 

“Thank you,” Sophie murmurs after they’ve ordered. Biana doesn’t have to ask what for. 

“Of course.”

(Biana leans down to kiss her barely an hour later. Sophie smiles against her lips and tugs her in closer.)

(Biana doesn’t get back to her hotel that night.)

* * *

_December 22, 2020._

_Some Fancy Hotel_

_Chicago, Illinois._

Dex can’t sleep. 

There’s no particular reason why, no loud party down the street or flashing lights outside his window. He just can’t sleep, which is especially frustrating when he glances at the clock and finds it’s one AM. Tomorrow- or, today, really- is event four, and if he wants to make a good impression, he’d better do it on more than three hours of sleep.

Heaving a sigh, he flops himself out of bed and flips on the light switch. As long as he’s awake, he might as well read or something. 

A loud _crash_ sounds from down the hall. Dex blinks and grabs his sneakers, opening his door and peeking out. No one’s in sight, but rustling noises are coming from the communal kitchen a few doors away. Dex decides that sleep is for the weak and pads down to investigate.

Fitz Vacker is standing in the middle of the kitchen, aggressively stirring a bowl of something that appears to be cookie dough and frowning. There’s a flour-dusted cookbook on the counter.

“Um.” Dex coughs a little. Fitz looks up from the cookie dough and turns toward him. He's wearing a sweatshirt thrown over a pair of what looks like Walgreens-brand pajamas. Dex is a little surprised that a Vacker would wear something that shitty. 

“Sorry,” he says in his annoyingly perfect accent. “Did I wake you up?”

“Nah, you’re fine. Why are you still awake?”

Fitz shrugs. “Couldn’t fall asleep. You?”

“Same.” Dex moves over and peers into the bowl. “Sugar cookies?”

“They’re a classic Christmas cookie, right?” Fitz looks at him. Dex blinks. “No, really, I’m asking. I don’t celebrate Christmas.”

This startles a laugh out of Dex. “Yeah, they’re a classic. My aunt used to make them all the time in December. I’d come home from school and she’d be, like, chilling on our couch with three different kinds of cookies.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t even realize she was famous until I was eight. She was just Aunt Eda.”

“My mom used to have to do all these photo shoots? With baked goods and shit? And she’d bring me and Bi along because our daycare didn’t go that late so we’d just be hanging out around this camera equipment and doing our best not to break anything.” Fitz looks down and stirs the cookie dough a bit more. “Bi always says we grew up with a camera in our faces, so much that we never learned to be normal. She’s more right than I’d like to think.”

Dex doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have anything _to_ say; he’s always assumed, like so many other people, that the spotlight on the Vackers was effortless and encouraged. Life seemed so easy for them. 

_Of course it does,_ Dex reminds himself. _Life always looks easy when you’re the one looking at it._

“Sorry,” Fitz grabs the bowl and turns away, reaching up into a cabinet for some powdered sugar. “I get… honest when I’m tired.” 

“Yeah, well, I get grumpy, so you’re still better off.” Dex grabs a baking sheet out of where they’re being stored in the oven, since the cookies look about ready to be rolled out. “You’re fine, though. No cameras here.” 

_You’re not being judged here,_ he means. _I’d like to get to know you._

This must translate at least a little, because Fitz gives him a small smile and dumps the dough out onto the counter. 

“Help me? I think the cookie cutters are in the bottom left drawer.”

“Got it.” Dex grabs a tiny metal snowman and cuts out a piece of dough, laying it flat on the metal sheet. He’s reminded suddenly of going through the same motions back home, with Keefe and Amy arguing good-naturedly over his head. 

There’s a different air in the kitchen right now. It’s quieter, slower, dark-dark-chocolatey; something bitter and sweet and smooth all at the same time. 

“Are you worried about the competition?” He asks. Fitz blinks, lifting another three cookies onto the sheet before answering. 

“I don’t think so. I was, before, but once I got here…” he gives an expansive shrug. “It’s just baking. Baking calms me down.” 

“Hence the cookies at one AM,” Dex notes. Fitz laughs. 

“Hence the stress-baking cookies at one AM,” he agrees. “I don’t even think I was stressed about the contest, just-” he waves a hand in the air. “Just stressed in general.” 

“I get that.” Dex presses a few buttons on the oven and tilts his head toward the table a few feet away. They’ll need to wait for the oven to heat up before they put the cookies in. “I was pretty scared of fucking up at first, but, I mean, it’s a baking competition. Everyone’s gonna forget the butter at _some_ point.” 

Fitz squints at him. “I can’t tell if ‘forget the butter’ is an expression I’m unaware of, or if you actually did that and I just didn’t hear about it.” 

“Maruca from Cali did that, actually. I have more style, at least- _I_ forgot the _eggs._ ”

“My friend’s cat got into my kitchen once,” Fitz says seriously. “Not during this contest, but when I was making her daughter’s birthday cake. There was hair everywhere. It was… a cat-astrophe.”

Both of them are silent for almost a full minute, just staring at each other, before Dex breaks down.

“That was _terrible,_ ” he wheezes, trying to stop laughing. Fitz grins. 

“I know, I’m embarrassed of myself.”

“You _should_ be.”

The oven beeps and they both startle, turning toward it. Fitz retrieves an oven mitt and slides the cookies into the oven. Dex closes the door and stands back up, suddenly realizing how close they’re standing. 

“You should try to sleep,” Fitz says quietly. “It’s late.”

Dex nods slightly but doesn’t move. There’s a tiny bit of flour on Fitz’s cheekbone. He doesn’t know why he notices it. 

They seem to stand there forever, just looking at each other. Then, suddenly, Fitz turns away and looks over the cookbook again. 

“I should sleep,” Dex says. Fitz nods, face shadowed in the dim lights. Dex turns away and heads back to his room. 

_What the fuck was that._

* * *

_December 23, 2020._

_Netflix’s Test Kitchen_

_Chicago, Illinois._

“Dex Dizznee. Biana Vacker. Maruca Chebota. And Tam Song.” Bronte reads out the names, then looks down at the contestants. “The four of you have won the past events, so you’ll get an extra prize today.”

“As you all know, today is the last event!” Edaline says cheerfully. “All eight of you have made some truly fantastic desserts in the past week, but only one person can win and today’s your final chance to really wow the judges. So, Event Five is…”

Cadence gestures toward the table up front, which holds two candy-covered houses. “Gingerbread houses,” she says. “You have four hours to bake, assemble, and decorate a gingerbread house with your partner.”

“Yep, you’ll be working in pairs for this one,” Edaline says when the murmurs start up. “And our four previous winners get to choose who they’re working with.” She smiles at Biana. “Although, Miss Vacker, I’m afraid you can’t work with your brother.” 

Biana laughs, turning and holding out a hand to Marella Redek instead. “All right. How about it, partner?”

Marella shrugs and takes her hand. Edaline gestures to Dex. 

He glances over the seven remaining contestants. Jensi Babblos seems nice- he probably wouldn’t be too bad to work with. Or maybe he can pair up with another winner and ask Maruca?

Then Fitz catches his eye and Dex remembers the previous day, cutting out cookies in the early-early morning light. It’s not really a choice after that. 

“Fitz,” he decides, and the man strides over to stand next to him. 

The other two pairs find each other, Edaline lays out the final rules, and then she shouts _go!_ and they’re off. 

“Hand me the cinnamon?” Dex asks. Fitz drops it into his hand and Dex dumps a tablespoon in the bowl, starting up the mixer. “Okay, and we should get the icing started so it has time to cool-”

“Already done,” Fitz says. He points to a bowl of fluffy white icing on the counter a foot away. “We should probably-”

“Figure out the decorations, yeah. You wanna-”

“Sketch something?”

They grin at each other and Dex pours the gingerbread batter into a pan. “Perfect,” he says. The oven lets out a tiny _beep_ when he closes it. 

The hours pass quickly, in a blur of candy and icing. They cover the sides of the house in dark red modeling chocolate and drag a toothpick through them for the individual bricks, carefully shape a vanilla wafer chimney, build a candy-cane fence. The actual construction of the house is tricky- Dex has to hold the walls up while Fitz pipes the icing and then keeps holding them until it sets. They get through it with only one roof collapse, though, and the final house looks pretty good. Fitz glues down three peppermints to make a path in front of the door, Dex attaches tiny sugar cookie trees to the ground, and they’re done with two minutes to spare.

“Wait, no. Hang on.” Fitz rummages through the mess they’ve made at their station, skirting a camera and grabbing the half-empty container of powdered sugar. He dumps it into a sieve. 

“Snow,” he and Dex say in unison. Fitz laughs and shakes the sieve over their presentation board, covering the whole thing in a fine layer of powder. 

“Perfect,” Dex says just as the timer goes off. “Let’s win this thing.”

* * *

_December 23, 2020._

_Netflix’s Test Kitchen_

_Chicago, Illinois._

Cameras flash as they zero in on Dex and Fitz’s gingerbread house, presumably taking the shots that will go along with Edaline’s _and the winner of Event Five is Fitz Vacker and Dex Dizznee!_ announcement in the actual show. Biana’s staring at the opposite wall, though; if she looks towards the recording equipment, she doubts she’ll be able to hide how nervous she is. 

The competition doesn’t matter in the long run, but it would be really, _really_ cool to win. 

“Now,” Edaline says after the cameras have returned to their original places. “You’ve all shown amazing talent in the past few days. Frankly, all three of us were just blown away at some of the things you created. But one of you managed to wow us at every turn, showcasing your art as well as your baking skills. And that person is…”

Next to Biana, her brother stares at the ground. A few feet away, Dex is twisting his hands together, expression schooled into something just left of panic. Biana takes a deep breath.

“Maruca Chebota!”

The room is silent, and then everyone breaks into applause. Maruca is smiling wide, tears glittering at the corners of her eyes. 

“Thank you so much,” she manages before getting crushed into a giant group hug. 

Later, Biana stands in the front hall of the hotel with her suitcase by her side. She and Fitz are flying home tonight, and she can’t wait to get back to her own apartment. 

“It’ll be nice,” Sophie agrees. “I’m heading straight out to Michigan to see my aunt and uncle for Christmas.” 

Fitz appears in the doorway, talking animatedly with someone out of sight. Biana takes the opportunity to give Sophie one last kiss. 

“I’ll text you?” She asks. Sophie nods. 

Fitz strolls up, Dex by his side. They’ve finished their conversation, apparently, and are now just looking at each other. Biana coughs.

“We should get to the airport.” She reminds him. Fitz jumps.

“Right! Yes, of course. Um-” he glances back at Dex and then sweeps the shorter man into a hug. Dex’s eyes widen but he hugs back. 

“It was so nice to meet you,” Biana tells Dex when the two break apart. “Have a nice Christmas.” 

“You too,” Dex says, and then he and Sophie are gone. Biana elbows her brother. 

“Dexter Dizznee, huh?” She asks. Fitz glares at her. 

“Shut up.”

* * *

_December 28, 2020._

_Dizznee Family Household_

_Detroit, Michigan._

Christmas is low-key. Or, it’s as low-key as Christmas with the Dizznees can be, anyway. Bex manages to get lights on the roof, Rex brings his partners to dinner and the three of them break into an impromptu performance of _Deck The Halls,_ and Lex sets up an elaborate present-wrapping station in the living room that seems to involve heinous amounts of tape. 

Edaline disappears upstairs a few times to work out all the details of the show, but she has enough time to help Kesler baste a turkey and kick all of their collective asses at foosball alongside Juline. Grady makes chocolate-covered cherries and Amy eats too many of them and Sophie laughs herself to tears when her sister trips over an armchair in her post-chocolate haze. They smile and exchange terrible presents and sing carols and it’s all normal, as normal as anything gets these days.

So maybe they’re not low-key. Maybe it’s just _Dex_ who’s low, _Dex_ who still feels like something’s missing. 

He lost the competition. He’s not mad about it; losing by a few stray points isn’t nearly as bad as it could have been. Not to mention they’re getting money anyway, so all the benefits are there. 

None of that explains his mood, though, and Dex is starting to wonder what on earth he isn’t seeing. 

“Hey,” Sophie says, wandering into the den and flopping down on the couch alongside him. Dex has been absentmindedly fiddling with a Rubik's cube for the past ten minutes, and he only now realizes it’s solved. “What’s up?” 

“Hmm?”

“You’ve been mopey all day,” she says. “All _week,_ actually. Which is weird, because you’re not normally mopey.” 

“You- noticed?”

Sophie gives him an affronted look. “I _do_ pay attention.” 

“I’m not _mopey,_ ” Dex protests. 

“So staring into the distance and frowning is just a hobby?” Sophie sighs, plucking the Rubik’s cube out of his hands and scooting closer. “Look, I’m not trying to shame you. I just want to know what’s going on.”

Dex stares at her, then glances down at his hands. “I… who do you keep texting?”

The question catches Sophie off guard. “What?”

“You’ve been glancing down at your phone and smiling all through vacation,” he says. “Who are you texting?”

Sophie’s cheeks flush pink. “Um. Biana?”

“Oh.” Right. Biana Vacker. Dex had almost forgotten about her, in all the chaos of the last day of competition and then heading back home. Sophie didn’t, apparently. “That’s great. I’m happy for you.”

“You sound like a greeting card.”

“Fuck you, I’m _trying._ ” 

Sophie rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “Thanks, though. I really like her.” She tilts her head. “Now, back to your moping.”

“No.”

“Hmm.” Sophie says. She fixes him with a look that says _I can see into your soul and there is some weird stuff in there._ “Dex. What happened when you teamed up with Fitz Vacker in the last round of the contest?”

“Um.” Dex blinks. “We… made a gingerbread house?”

“And after that?” Sophie raises an eyebrow. “Dex, I know you. You’ve hated the Vackers possibly since you were _born._ How on Earth did you go from that to _hugging_ Fitz when you said goodbye to him?”

“I-” 

There have been a lot of things recently, Dex reflects, that he’s been unable to explain, even to himself. Why he disliked the Vackers in the first place. Why he’s been empty the past few days. 

Why he and Fitz are sort of on decent terms now.

But things start to dig themselves out of his memory; an out-of-the-blue compliment about his pies, a night spent in a terrible hotel kitchen unable to sleep, a grin and a tiny peppermint swirl and fake sugar snow on a rooftop.

“Oh.” Dex’s eyes go wide. “Oh, shit.” 

“What?” Sophie asks. As if on cue, three strawberry-blond heads poke into the doorway. Dex groans. 

“Do you hear that?” Rex asks, shit-eating grin on his face. Lex nods seriously. 

“I believe it’s the sound of a local man realizing he’s been in love with Fitzroy Vacker this whole time.” 

Bex gestures towards Dex as if she’s holding a microphone. “Tell me, sir, how does it feel to come to such a conclusion? Do you think your behaviour towards Mr. Vacker will change after this?”

“Please leave,” Dex says flatly. Sophie squints at him. 

“Wait, are you really-”

“I don’t know. Please make them leave.” 

Sophie looks from him to the triplets, who give her matching smiles. She shakes her head and stands up. 

“I don’t think I’m capable of doing that, honestly. I’m going to go text Bi.”

“Traitor!” Dex calls after her. The triplets flop down on the couch, garishly patterned Christmas sweaters clashing terribly with the blue cushions. Bex gives him an exaggerated _I’m thinking_ look. 

“Hmm,” she says. “You know, maybe Amy was onto something with all her ‘enemies to lovers speedrun’ stuff.” 

“I’m leaving this family,” Dex mutters, shoving a pillow over his face. “I will go to Canada and buy a large house and never have to see any of you ever again.”

Rex raises his eyebrows. “Wow, you’d leave your boyfriend behind like that?” 

“Nope! No, nope, not doing this.” Dex stands up and moves towards the door. Behind him, he hears at least one of his siblings fall off the couch. 

“Seriously, though. What are you going to do?”

Dex turns back around. Rex and Bex are sprawled on the floor in a tangle of feet, but Lex is looking at Dex with a strangely sympathetic expression. He sighs.

“I don’t know.”

There’s a buzz in his pocket and Dex pulls his phone out as his siblings start to untangle themselves.

**Fos-Boss**

hey. wanna go to nyc?

* * *

_December 31, 2020._

_Biana Vacker's Self-Proclaimed Trash Can Fire_

_New York City, New York._

“You’re doing it again.”

Fitz leans his head over the back of the couch and frowns at her. “Doing what?”

“Your whole _woe is me, time to stare aimlessly at the wall_ thing.” Biana waves a hand towards her brother. “Stop that and help me cut the baklava.”

“This is… a _lot_ of baklava for just the two of us,” Fitz says. “Are you sure you didn’t decide to throw another giant stupid New Years party again?”

“I promise there will be no giant New Years party,” Biana says. “I’ve invited _two_ people over. That’s it.”

“But you refuse to tell me who those people are, which automatically makes me suspicious.” 

As if on cue, the doorbell rings. Biana smiles at her brother and takes the knife from him. 

“Why don’t you go find out?”

Fitz sighs and moves out into the hallway. Biana hears him swing the door open, and then- nothing. 

She pushes the now-cut baklava onto a plate and leans her head out the doorway. Her brother is standing there, staring at a man with strawberry-blond hair. Sophie stands behind him, smiling awkwardly.

“Hello!” She says, directing the statement at Biana since her cousin is still locked in a staring contest with Fitz. “Happy New Year!”

“It’s not New Years yet,” Biana laughs, coming out of the doorway to grab Sophie’s coat and drop a quick kiss to her lips. “How was your drive?”

“Long,” Sophie says. “But I’ve had worse. And we had some decent pancakes, right?” 

“Right,” Dex murmurs, still staring at Fitz. He shakes his head. “Yeah, they were pretty good. Happy New Year, by the way.” 

“You too,” Fitz manages. Biana hides a laugh behind her sweater sleeve and grabs Dex’s arm. 

“Hey, you wanna come help me open the champagne?” 

“Sure, but-”

“We’ll be fine,” Fitz manages a bright grin. “I’m gonna show Sophie some of Bi’s elementary school pictures.”

“Fitzroy Avery Vacker, don’t you _dare-_ ”

Fitz laughs and Biana and Dex retreat back to the kitchen. Biana reaches for one of the bottles of champagne and turns towards the shorter man. 

“I’m not going to give you a shovel talk,” she shrugs, “mainly because I think you already know I could murder you if you hurt him.”

“Yep,” Dex nods. He looks down. “But you don’t have to worry about giving me a shovel talk. It’s not like we’re dating.” 

“No, you two have just been in love with each other for a ridiculously long amount of time.” The cork pops out of the champagne bottle and Sophie cheers from the other room. Biana grins at the stunned expression Dex is giving her. “Come on. Only an hour till midnight.”

They put the Times Square Ball Drop on at 11:30, watching as some band Biana vaguely recognizes but couldn’t name rocks out in front of the crowd. Sophie says _that looks cold,_ and Biana says _it’s always cold. That’s why I stay home,_ and Sophie snuggles a little closer to her. At the ten-minute mark, Dex and Fitz make some sort of telepathic agreement to go out and stand on the balcony. 

“Hey,” Biana mutters as the lights onscreen get brighter. The countdown should start soon. “I’m so glad I met you.”

Sophie turns her face, so close their noses almost brush. “Me too,” she smiles. “But I’m even happier I get to do this.”

A hurricane could probably pass through the apartment right now without Biana noticing. Sophie's lips are soft, and Biana knows this woman will stick with her no matter what. 

Numbers start to flash on the screen. Biana couldn’t care less about what they say. 

* * *

_December 31, 2020._

_Fitz Vacker’s Plant-Covered Balcony_

_New York City, New York._

“The apartment’s Biana’s, technically,” Fitz says as they step out into the cold night air. “But she never uses the balcony and I needed a place to put my plants, so it’s mine now.”

“And you’re certainly using the space,” Dex notes. He can spot at least five different kinds of flowers out here, and that’s just with his non-existant plant knowledge. 

Fitz laughs, loud and bright against the painted backdrop of the sky. There are only a few stars Dex can see, but the whole sky is a shade of midnight blue that makes up for the darkness. 

“I am, yeah.” He leans on the railing for a moment, staring down at the world below, before turning back a bit. “How was your Christmas?”

“Good,” Dex says. “How was your… Chanukah?”

“It ended before the contest started, but yeah, it was good” Fitz glances down at the street again and Dex goes to stand next to him. Minutes tick by, the two of them just watching cars pass by.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Fitz says finally. The words are soft, barely more than whispers, and Dex thinks for a moment that he imagined them. Then Fitz looks up and meets his eyes. 

A cheer goes up from around the city, people everywhere shouting _Ten!_

“I’m glad too,” Dex says. Carefully, oh-so-slowly, he reaches up and cups the other man’s cheek. Fitz’s eyes flutter closed for just a moment. 

_Seven!_

“The ball will drop soon,” he murmurs. “If you want to watch it.”

“I’m fine,” Dex smiles. “Unless- you want to?”

_Five!_

“Nah,” Fitz says, reaching up to touch Dex’s hand where it’s still on his face. “I think I can do without the spectacle for tonight.”

_Three!_

Dex nods, rocking forward just a little. 

_Two!_

Fitz’s eyes are bright, and his breath is warm where it ghosts across Dex’s skin. 

_One!_

They barely have to move in before their lips meet. 

* * *

_January 1, 2021._

_Somewhere Over New York City._

Fireworks bloom into bursts of color against the dark sky. 

**Author's Note:**

> The Thorne Rooms are some of my favorite things in the world; once museums are open again I'd totally recommend checking them out.  
> Also, chocolate-ginger crinkle cookies are a New York Times recipe and they're absolutely delicious. 
> 
> I'm @cadence-talle on tumblr, come say hi!! 
> 
> Comments/kudos are love!


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